


Witness

by eerian_sadow



Series: speedwriting [8]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alternate Universe, Community: tf_speedwriting, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-12
Updated: 2012-03-12
Packaged: 2017-12-04 21:35:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/715346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eerian_sadow/pseuds/eerian_sadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes things happen that can't be explained and some mechs are fortunate enough to see it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Witness

**Author's Note:**

> written for the March 10, 2012 round at tf_speedwriting. i don't even know where this came from. it was supposed to be Kup in the bar and some grand story and i don't even know.

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/eerian_sadow/pic/000w3x95/)

Title: Witness  
Universe: G1 AU  
Rating: PG  
Characters: unnamed OC1, unnamed OC2, unnamed OC3, Optimus Prime, surprise character  
Content Advisory: implied alcohol use, mild “Cybertronian” swearing  
Prompt: 2. Setting: a bar at closing time  
Notes: written for the March 10, 2012 round at tf_speedwriting. i don't even know where this came from. it was supposed to be Kup in the bar and some grand story and i don't even know.

  
It had been a slow night, no one but regulars in the small crowd and they all cleared off long before closing time so they could be back at their respective bases before last call. All but one, who was a blue and red mech the staff all knew by name but didn’t actually know. No one wanted to disturb him, no matter the reason he was hiding in their dingy little bar, but it was long past last call and the servers were shooting restless looks at the door.

With a heavy sigh, the owner made his way to the red and blue mech’s table. “Prime, sir? You have to go. It’s past closing time.”

Optimus Prime looked up at him, weariness stamped boldly across his features. “Has my escort arrived to take me home?”

“Sir?”

“No.” The Prime turned away and looked back down at his empty energon cube. “He wouldn’t. He died in the war. They all did. Only I remain.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” And he truly was, but he had employees to look out for. “I lost friends in the war too. And you’ll never know how grateful I am for what you and yours did for mechs like me. But you have to go, sir. It’s late and my staff has to go home.”

Optimus’ gaze flicked up from the cube to the femme who had been serving him through the night. Then he looked around the rest of the bar and frowned. “So lost in the past that I cannot see the present anymore.”

The barkeep was trying to think of a response that would get the Prime on his feet and _out the door_ , when his bouncer growled behind him. “We’re closed.”

“It’s all right,” a gravelly voice drawled in response. “I’m just here to escort my Prime home.”

Optimus’ hands twitched against the table in a way that would have been comical if not for the pure shock on the mech’s face plates. He turned slowly toward the source of the voice, until his gaze fixed on the mech who had come in. The barkeep followed that gaze to see the red mech who had stood at the Prime’s side for most of the war.

“Ironhide…?” Optimus’ voice was a whisper, filled with both hope and disbelief.

“I’m here,” Ironhide replied. “Had a Pit of a time finding you, but I’m here.”

The bar owner was shoved backward as the Prime leaped from his chair, but he barely noticed as he watched the larger mech pull the smaller into an embrace as fierce as any he had ever read in a literature file.

Ironhide returned the embrace just as tightly. “I’m here, Optimus. I’m here and I ain’t leaving again without you.”

The Prime choked out something that could have been Ironhide’s name and held the red mech more tightly.

“Let’s go home,” the smaller mech said gently.

“Yes.” Optimus let go of his friend slowly and Ironhide took him by the arm to lead him out of the bar.

When they were gone, the bouncer looked away from the door and to his boss with some confusion. “What did we just see?”

“I… A miracle, I think,” the owner replied.

“I don’t care what we saw,” the femme said darkly. “He didn’t pay his tab.”


End file.
